


Kal AU: Two for One

by wheel_pen



Series: Alice [31]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Naughtiness, Red Kryptonite, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU subseries of Alice series. Clark, as Kal, falls into a pool of green K-derived acid... and two bodies emerge, one with Clark’s identity and one with Kal’s. This story is unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kal AU: Two for One

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Alice, my original female character, is new in Smallville. There is something special about her, and she and Clark form a relationship.
> 
> 2\. This series starts after the end of the second season—after the destruction of the spaceship and Clark abruptly leaving town.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This story may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

The only thing the pouring rain was good for was washing the acid off Clark’s skin, though its assistance was haphazard at best. Alice hauled him sharply onto the rocks surrounding the glowing green pool of goo and rushed to wipe off as much of the poisonous substance as possible. Acid made from green Kryptonite—so refined and concentrated it was affecting Alice, searing her flesh wherever it landed. It had eaten Clark’s clothes clean through and was starting on his skin as well; she had to get him away from here and cleaned off, before it was too late for them both.

Alice was about to start hefting Clark’s dead weight back towards the truck when there was a gurgling sound from the acid pool. Fearing the worst—an explosion of some sort, perhaps—she turned back and saw... a hand. Emerging from the acid. It started to drop back below the surface but Alice grabbed it and pulled, praying it wasn’t _just_ a hand, although Clark had both of his still attached. An arm, a shoulder, a head—a very _familiar_ head—rose from the pool, and Alice almost lost her grip on him in surprise. Bracing herself she yanked the still figure onto dry land and tried to wipe him down as best she could. Still, she had to pause and rest for a few moments, panting from the exertion, weakened by the presence of the refined Kryptonite. Hands on her knees, she tried to contemplate the picture before her and failed utterly. Two Clarks. Two Clarks sprawled out on the ground, unconscious, unclothed, soaking wet, the rain doing what little it could to dilute the greenish acid burning their skin. It might have been a scene from a particularly wild fantasy—except for the acid burning part.

Alice had no explanation for it and she didn’t have time to think of one either; her strength would be gone soon and she had to get... them... out of here, back to somewhere safe. With effort she carried the still bodies to the truck, one at a time. She thought about covering them with a tarp or something, but then she decided that exposure to the rain would probably be better for them. Ignoring her own dizziness as best she could Alice started up the truck and raced it back to the Kent farm.

Jonathan and Martha were on the porch as soon as they heard the truck scream into the yard. They paled visibly when they saw only Alice emerge from it, but she didn’t have time to reassure them... and she wasn’t sure what reassurances she would give, anyway. Without hesitation she stripped off what remained of her clothing and doused herself under the chemical safety shower Jonathan had installed outside the barn long ago, when they still farmed with pesticides.

“Don’t touch those, it’s acid,” she shouted above the roar of the water as the Kents stepped around the steaming, deteriorating pile of fabric. Fortunately not one of her favorite outfits.

“Alice, where’s Clark?” Martha demanded, as Jonathan averted his eyes—and saw the back of the truck.

“Holy s—t,” he exclaimed, and Martha turned back to him in surprise. Her surprise level shot up several more notches when she saw what he was staring at.

“I don’t know what happened,” Alice told them breathlessly, scrubbing herself clean. Jonathan was dispatched to the house to find her clean clothes. “It was acid made from Kryptonite. He fell in. I pulled out—two of them.” It was the only summary her mind could come up with.

Tears forming in her eyes, Martha reached out to touch a blistered patch of skin on (one of the) Clark’s face(s). It was so rarely she had ever seen him injured, and now there were _two_ of them lying there, still as death, skin covered in grotesque red burns...

“Don’t touch him!” Alice warned. “We have to get the acid off first!” Jonathan reappeared with a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that would do for the moment; he was also wearing his work jacket and heavy gloves, anticipating the chemicals he might be working with.

The rain was starting to lighten up, finally, when Alice and Jonathan hauled the first of the Clarks out of the truck and hosed him down. Martha donned a second pair of work gloves, trying to wipe his skin down with rags that were quickly destroyed. The weight was becoming problematic, even for Alice, though it was limp limbs flopping everywhere that really gave her trouble. Still, they managed to get him clean and upstairs and dump him in—his?—bed before going back for the second one. This one was left on the downstairs couch after clean-up; Alice barely staggered upstairs to the guest room before collapsing, leaving the Kents to dispose of the remnants of Kryptonite acid.

 

Alice’s mother was back from Metropolis in thirty minutes on Lex’s helicopter, after Martha called to say her daughter was “sick.” It was funny, she would have thought she and Meg would bond over an experience of motherhood no one else in the world—that they knew of—shared, but instead they seemed to have only tension. Different parenting styles, Martha supposed, or different experiences in life _before_ they became parents. Somehow Martha always felt like Meg Wilson was blaming _her_ for any trouble Alice got into because of Clark.

Still, the woman who walked back down the stairs an hour after going up to check on Alice resembled nothing if not a worried mother, and Martha Kent knew exactly how that felt. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” the redhead asked, and Meg nodded gratefully.

“Where’s Jonathan?” she queried in an attempt at conversation, settling at the kitchen table.

“He’s out in the woods, burying the rest of the...” Martha wasn’t even sure what to call the noxious substance Alice had been so adamant they avoid. “Anyway,” she continued briskly, setting a cup of coffee in front of Meg, “we thought it was best to get rid of it quickly.”

 

********

 

“It’s just a crazy theory,” Alice hedged, curling up in her chair at the kitchen table more. She cupped her hands tightly around the mug of coffee and her motherly absently tucked the blanket draped around her in more.

“But when he actually fell _in_ ,” Jonathan repeated, for clarification, “he was wearing the ring, so he was Kal...”

“And neither of them was wearing it when I pulled them _out_ ,” Alice continued, nodding. “It could have fallen off, or even been dissolved by the acid. But it _might_ be that one is Clark, and one is Kal.”

Martha shook her head and glanced worriedly at the still-unconscious figure of her son, sprawled on the couch under a pile of blankets. Neither he nor the twin upstairs had moved for two days, although their heartbeats were steady and the blistered burns were fading. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I can’t even _begin_ to understand how...” She trailed off, deciding there was no point to admitting her confusion again.

“Well if one is Clark and one is Kal,” Meg started, being rather newer to this entire concept than the others, “how are you going to tell them apart?”

They were about to explain _exactly_ how to tell the two apart when there was a sudden thump from upstairs. Everyone jumped, then Jonathan and Martha rose from the table, aiming for the staircase. Before they could get there a figure staggered down the steps, completely naked and almost completely healed, dark hair tousled, green eyes bleary. “What the f—k is going on?” he demanded furiously, leaning on the wall for support. “I feel like s—t!”

“ _That’s_ Kal,” Alice pointed out to her mother.

 

**********

 

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?”

“Yeah, I’m tough and I’m _fast_ , so there—“

“Ha ha! Who’s fast _now_ , Flannel Boy?”

“You _so_ cheated!”

“Rule number one: There _are_ no rules!”

“Rule number two—“

“Hey!”

“—watch for the jump shot!”

“S—t!”

“Ha ha, yourself!”

“C’mere, you little f----r—“

“Who are you calling _little_ , you little m—“

“Boys!” Martha called out the back door. “Language!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Sorry, um...”

“You can call her ‘Mom,’” Clark whispered.

“Sorry, Mom.” Kal turned back to his twin. “That felt weird.”

Clark swatted the basketball out of his hands. “Why?” He aimed and shot it at the basket nailed to the side of the barn, making the rim cleanly. “I mean, if you have all my thoughts and memories up until a few days ago...”

Kal shrugged and retrieved the ball. “I don’t know. I don’t understand it.” He ran for a jump shot and sank the ball through the hoop. “But when you-slash-we were on red K the first couple times, you didn’t identify with them either.”

“I thought that was just because I was mad at them,” Clark admitted, still feeling a little guilty. He dug at the dirt with his shoe and almost missed the ball Kal heaved at him.

“I don’t know,” Kal repeated. “I don’t really feel like... you. Like Clark Kent.”

“Well, I guess that’s good,” Clark decided slowly, turning the ball over in his hands. “Isn’t it? I mean, then there really _would_ be two of me.”

“Shudder to think,” his twin commented dryly. “Would there be enough plaid in the world?”

Clark was about to retort when both of them heard a familiar sound and cocked their heads towards the road. When Clark turned back to the other teenager, a look of alarm on his face, Kal was smirking.

“Pete’s coming,” Clark told him unnecessarily.

“Yeah? So?”

“So?!” Clark set the basketball down and looked around frantically. “So, you have to get out of sight!”

“Why?” Kal asked, resisting the push Clark gave him towards the barn. “Pete knows about the alien thing. Why can’t he know about _me_?”

“Because—um—“ Honestly Clark couldn’t really think of a good reason, but he _did_ know one thing. “I’m not ready to tell him yet,” he sputtered as the blue Trans Am rumbled up the drive. “So _go_!” He shoved Kal hard inside the barn and slammed the door shut after him.

“Clark!” Pete climbed out of his car and jogged over to his friend. Glancing over Clark’s ripped, dirt-covered t-shirt and shorts, he observed, “Guess you’re feeling better, huh?”

“Yeah,” Clark answered shakily, trying to glance back at the barn surreptitiously. “Just playing a little ball. After being cooped up in the house for so long.”

“Yeah, Alice said you were sick,” Pete commiserated. “So I figured you must’ve had a run-in with the green stuff. Or something. She wouldn’t tell me anything else...”

His tone hinted for information, but Clark just didn’t think he was up to explaining the whole Kal thing yet. It was still too fresh of a shock in his own mind. “Yeah, well, I—“

The barn door suddenly rattled and both Clark and Pete turned towards it sharply. “What was that?” Pete asked worriedly.

“Um, that was, um...” The door rattled again, menacingly, as Clark tried to think up a plausible explanation. “The wind?”

“The wind,” Pete repeated skeptically. The door banged again, and Clark knew Kal was just playing because, obviously, he could have torn it off the hinges or even busted right through it if he wanted. To Pete Clark appeared at a loss for words, and _that_ bothered him more than anything. “Clark, you’re starting to freak me out now,” he warned.

Suddenly the barn door flew open and bounced off the wall with a loud _thunk_. “Clark f-----g Kent, you _ever_ push me into a barn full of horse s—t again, you are going to regret it!” Kal stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, glaring.

Pete’s eyes darted from one figure to the other. Aside from wearing _different_ ripped, dirt-covered t-shirts and shorts, they were exactly alike. In physical appearance, anyway. “Uh, Clark...?”

“Dude, Pete, how’s it hanging?” Kal greeted cheerfully, approaching them. He held out his hand for a five, but Pete just stared at him.

Seeing Kal’s expression start to darken, Clark jumped in. “Pete, this is Kal. You remember Kal, right?”

It was hard to forget Kal, Pete had to admit. “But, um, you and Kal are...” He made a vague gesture with his fingers, indicating that he _assumed_ them to have been one and the same person. As in one and the same _body_.

“Okay.” Clark took a deep breath. “So there was this pool of Kryptonite acid, and I fell in—“

“ _I_ fell in,” Kal cut in sharply. Pete’s head jerked back towards him, as if he were still surprised Kal was alive and not just a waxworks dummy of Clark.

“Right, right,” Clark amended. “Okay, technically, it was _my_ body, but I was wearing the red Kryptonite ring, so Kal was in the driver’s seat, and, well, the whole thing fell into the pool of green K acid.”

“Which was just f-----g nasty,” Kal inserted.

“And then when Alice went to pull... one out, she realized there were actually... two to pull out,” Clark added awkwardly. Somehow it just didn’t make sense when explained aloud. “And one is me and one is Kal.”

Pete continued to turn his head from one to the other, as if comparing for differences. If he were just looking at a picture of the two of them, it would probably be impossible to tell the apart, he decided—but in real life, attitude was everything. And Kal had a cocky stance and petulant glare that Clark could just never pull off convincingly.

“So there’s... two Clark Kents?” Pete stumbled.

“No!” Kal corrected sharply. “There’s one of _him_ , and one of _me_!” Clark shot him a warning look.

“But, um... you both have the same... powers, right?” Pete addressed Clark, giving Kal the occasional nervous glance.

“Yes,” they chorused, then glanced at each other.

“Stop doing that,” Kal told Clark, who shrugged helplessly.

“And... all the same memories?” Pete went on.

Clark glared at Kal, who didn’t look contrite. “There’s some debate about that.” Seeing Pete’s confused expression, Clark added quickly, “But basically, yeah. Up until a couple days ago, of course.”

“Of course,” Pete echoed. There was a long pause, long enough that Kal started to get antsy. Clark shushed him.

“Um, Pete?” Clark finally ventured. The shorter teen looked rather shellshocked.

“Wow, dude...” Pete breathed. “This is intense.”

Kal rolled his eyes and grabbed the basketball. “A deep philosophical observation, Pete,” he commented sarcastically, lining up for a shot. “Clark, you’ve got such morons for friends.” He tossed the ball, making the basket cleanly.

Clark sighed and turned back to Pete, looking slightly embarrassed. Pete just shook his head. “It’s definitely Kal,” he agreed.

“Yeah,” Clark nodded.

Seeming to come back to his senses, Pete peered around Clark’s shoulder at his twin, then pulled Clark a few feet farther away. “So what are you gonna do?” he whispered urgently.

“What do you mean?” Clark countered in confusion.

“I _mean_ ,” Pete hissed, keeping an eye on Kal shooting free throws, “what are you gonna do about... _it_? _Him_?”

“I _do_ have super-hearing, you know!” Kal shouted over to them in irritation. “And I am definitely _not_ an ‘it’!” Pete pulled Clark over another few feet, as if that would make a difference. “Idiot,” muttered Kal under his breath—Clark heard him plainly, of course.

“You can’t have—two people who look like _you_ running around!” Pete went on urgently.

“Well, what am I _supposed_ to do?” Clark replied, whispering even though he knew it was useless.

“I don’t know,” Pete confessed. “Maybe if you, like, went back to that green K stuff and, I don’t know, both jumped in, it might”—he made a violent gesture with his hands—“mash you back together?”

“Hey, maybe it’d make _four_ of us!” Kal suggested gleefully.

“I am _definitely_ not going near that Kryptonite acid again,” Clark assured Pete. “I mean, we were out cold for _two days_. Covered in burns. It was horrible. Alice barely got us out alive.”

“Well, what are you gonna _tell_ people?” Pete insisted. Clark was obviously not completely well, he decided, or he would better understand the seriousness of this situation. It was hard enough keeping secrets about Clark and Alice, Pete didn’t need _another_ person to add to the list.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Clark brightened. Pete raised his eyebrows dubiously. “Kal is my long-lost twin brother from Ohio.”

Pete blinked. “Ohio.”

“Yeah.” Clark grinned. “It’s perfect. I’m adopted, no one knows anything about my parents. So why couldn’t I have a twin brother I was separated from at birth? Or, you know, before age three or so, when we were adopted by different people?”

“Um, because that kind of thing only happens in bad TV movies?” Pete suggested facetiously.

Clark frowned at him. “No, it doesn’t,” he protested. “I found all kinds of stories like that online. I’ve got _precedent_.” As if _that_ made it more believable.

“Okay, well how about this,” Pete continued. He cautiously lowered his voice even more. “Clark—it’s _Kal_. You can’t let him run around unsupervised!” Clark opened his mouth to protest but Pete cut him off. “I mean, hello, summer in Metropolis? We all saw the papers, Clark—Kal, and you, and whatever you were—you guys were robbing banks, hooking up with gangsters, busting ATMs.” Clark glanced behind him at Kal in consternation, but Pete demanded his attention. “What are you and Alice going to do? Babysit him twenty-four hours a day to make sure he doesn’t go psycho on someone?”

Clark heard a whoosh at his back and turned just in time to grab the basketball that had been thrown with murderous force at Pete’s head. Kal followed shortly after it and Clark barely grabbed him as well. “You wanna see me go psycho on someone, you f‑‑‑‑‑g little runt?!” he screamed at Pete, who was swiftly regretting his earlier statements—even though they had been proven correct.

“Kal!” Clark forcibly dragged him a few feet away from Pete. It was kind of like restraining Alice—Clark had never yet determined which one of them was stronger, if either, but he always had the distinct impression he was only holding either of them back because they _allowed_ them to. “Would you just—calm down!”

Practically growling, Kal nonetheless held his ground, and Clark felt it was safe to let him go. But he kept a close eye on him. “Now look, Pete,” Clark began, as seriously as he could while still glancing back at his twin, “Kal is not just some... chemically-induced mood swing, okay? He’s a... real person, with his own thoughts and opinions and...” Clark felt absolutely stupid trying to explain this. Not to mention patronizing. “...and he can control himself,” he finished lamely.

“Sure he _can_ ,” Pete agreed recklessly, “but does he _want_ to?”

Clark gave Pete a pleading gaze—pleading with him to _shut up_ —then moved to block Kal’s approach. “I’ll make an exception for _some_ people,” Kal assured Pete menacingly.

“Clark.” Pete shook his head. “I don’t see how this is going to work, man.”

Now Clark was getting a little ticked at Pete, too. It wasn’t as if Clark had any _say_ in this, after all—Kal was _here_ and that was that. “Well, Pete, look, I’m sure Kal will be fine—“ Yeah, fine. It wasn’t like Clark was struggling to speak as he physically restrained Kal from tossing Pete into next week or anything.

“You wanna hear some of my ‘own thoughts and opinions’?!” Kal demanded, shoving at Clark while glaring at Pete. “How about, in my opinion, I think you’re an insecure little s—t who only hangs around with Clark because you _thought_ he was the one person in school who’s more of a loser than _you_?”

“Kal!” Clark was offended by that himself; he didn’t dare look at Pete’s face.

“Too bad he had to pull that whole f-----g alien thing on you, huh?” Kal continued tauntingly. “Which just went to prove that you were, in fact, the _biggest_ g-----n loser around. Not to mention that you’re a cowardly f-----g little weakling who’d probably spill _our_ secret the instant someone waved a f-----g icepick in your face.”

Wincing in advance, Clark braved a glance back at Pete, whose expression was stony. “Look, Pete—“ he tried, but his friend spun away towards his car.

“And I’d lay g-----n _money_ on the fact that you’ve never even petted a _cat_ , let alone got some p---y!” Kal added for good measure, over Clark’s shoulder.

“Kal,” Clark warned through gritted teeth. “Pete, wait a minute, he’s just mad—“

“Yeah, he’s _mad_ , he’s _crazy_ ,” Pete responded, opening the car door. “He’s a criminal lunatic and he’s got _your_ powers. So what are you gonna _do_ about that, Clark?” Pete slammed the door shut behind himself, turned on the engine, and sped back down the driveway, Clark staring after him in distress.


End file.
